Page 70 of Sapphires and Snakes
“You already know, dear.” Mother tries to pacify with a gentle tone. I want to tell her nothing we say or do will save us from the violence gathering in Marcus’s limbs, held back for now only to burst forth at the exact right moment. “We don’t know much more than you.”
Marcus turns his glare on her, standing perfectly still. “Here’s what I know: Ricci here sold so much of his territory that he demoted himself. Which means you’re either a fucking moron, or you have a death wish.”
Father doesn’t answer, watching Marcus like a rabbit before a wolf.
“Pathetic,” Marcus spits.
Mother slinks forward, her expression plastered with supplication. It’s so disconcerting I have to look away. She’s never begged, never lowered herself to even think of it. And here she is, ready to do so to keep us safe. She rests a hand onFather’s shoulder, standing at his side. “Please, Marcus, this was a mistake?—”
Marcus snorts, and behind him, Danny’s grin somehow widens further. “Which part?”
“We never meant to sell to Andrea Tamayo.” She chokes on her name like it’s being forced out of her throat by a closed fist. “This is her fault, not ours?—”
Marcus backhands Mother so hard, her head whips around and her neck cracks. Father flinches. I gasp. Pat steps forward before they stop themself. And Mother stands there, turning slowly back to Marcus as her fingers find a cut in her lip from her own teeth.
“Shut the fuck up, woman,” Marcus growls. “You run your mouth just like your daughter.”
Mother’s hand shakes over the blood trickling down her chin. She lowers her head, her gaze, and steps further back behind Father. I hold myself so tight, I can feel knots forming in my neck and shoulders.
Marcus scowls down his nose at Father, all his ire landing directly on Father’s shoulders. “Are you a man, or what, Ricci? Seems to me like you keep letting women speak for you, clean up your messes. Your wife had to broker this deal in the first place.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disdain. “And then there’s your daughter.”
I keep my haughty glare trained on his face, holding it there with all my might despite the frenetic fear pumping through my veins. Marcus raises his own to meet mine. A smirk pulls at his lips, but it’s not teasing or lilting.
It’s threatening.
“Neither of you could get her under control.” He speaks to them but holds my gaze. “I plan to break her of that habit.”
As in he still plans to marry me. My stomach drops out of my body.
“No.” Father speaks for the first time.
Marcus tilts his head, still looking at me rather than Father. “Excuse me?”
“The deal is void.” Father’s voice trembles, but for the first time since this travesty of events began, affection for him blooms in my chest. Finally, he’s doing what he should have done all along—protecting his family. He raises his eyes to meet Marcus’s. “The wedding’s off.”
“The deal is void.” Marcus chews on the words. His jaw clenches, and Father waits. He turns on his heel and paces toward Danny, who keeps that maniacal smile of his stretched wide. Pat shifts around the sitting area, closing the distance between them and the threat, slow and quiet.
Marcus returns to Father, studying him with detached interest. I furrow my brow, glare still in place, as Marcus stands still. Waiting. The fire is across the room, yet heat crawls up my skin and sweat dews over my palms as I hold my breath.
And then Marcus punches Father in the stomach.
The cry that escapes him is guttural. My hand automatically seizes, dropping my glass to the ground. Mother cowers backward. Pat barely stops themself from jumping forward.
But I don’t.
Because Marcus didn’t just land a punch. He stabbed Father and left the knife wedged in the softness of his gut.
I race to his side, kneeling beside him. My hands hover around the handle, the blade completely disappeared inside his body. Father tries to grab for it, his breath coming in great gasps, but I smack his fingers away. “Don’t! Don’t! Leave it in.”
“You don’t get to decide shit, anymore, Ricci.” Marcus speaks above me. I don’t spare him a glance as I watch Father’s face pale, sweat lining his temples and already soaking his collar.
“You think a gangster can tell a don what to do? That’s all you are now. A broke gang leader without an ounce of power to yourname. Gallo.” Marcus spits at Father’s feet, the glob landing on the toe of his Italian leather shoes. “Fucking useless.”
“Please, Marcus, please,” Mother begs. I don’t spare her a look, either.
“Stop right the fuck there.” Danny aims a gun at Pat, who halts their crawling approach.
“Here’s how this is gonna go.” Marcus steps around me, almost crushing my toes, and pours himself a drink at the sideboard.
